The moonscape is just east of Swakopmund and is so named because it looks precisely like the surface of the moon. Harsh, jagged rocks follow an undulating line over the earth and appear completely stripped of vegetation and any sign of life. Yet if you look a little closer, ancient lichens cling precariously to the rock surface and appear as a spray of muted colour.

The foreigners in our party are particularly captivated by the strange environment and stand quietly staring ahead, seemingly unable to comprehend they are on earth, and in Africa.

We had left Windhoek the previous evening, gently gliding out of the station on the Desert Express a luxury train that runs between Windhoek and Swakopmund.

After a gentle afternoon ambling down the tracks towards Swakopmund, the train ground to a halt to enable passengers to enjoy a relaxed dinner, one where they didn't have to chase moving plates and glassware across the table.

Of the crocodile steak option served for dinner, Kurt and his wife Ilse remarked: "Ze reptiles can taste zer goot" and promply asked what other 'rare dishes' would be served during the journey. The amused waiter replied that there would be a variety of venison on offer, but always the choice of a conventional dish. Kurt smacked his lips in anticipation of the coming fare and ordered a schnapps for a nightcap.

Winding our way from Windhoek
Windhoek is the small German-flavoured capital of Namibia, set at the heart of the country in the Central Highlands. It's a high-altitude town at over 1600 metres above sea level and the air is fresh and pure. Though Windhoek has about 200 000 inhabitants, the town has a feeling of being smaller as the suburbs are nestled between a series of hills on the outskirts of the town.

Independence Avenue is Windhoek's main street and is reminiscent of small-town Europe, replete with German buildings and an assortment of flags flying overhead. Here delis and confectionary shops jostle for space with curio shops and crafters, yet in the intricate African and European mix there is space for everyone.

Adding splashes of colour to the scene are the proud Hereros, who shuffle down the pavements parading their traditional dress. They look like human dolls in their modified Victorian outfits, and their huge bright skirts and pillow-like headrests make them a favourite subject for photographers.

The streets of Windhoek also reflect all the other ethnic groups of Namibia, and Namas, Ovambos, Damaras, San and Europeans can be seen quietly going about their daily business.

After a quiet and motion-free night to encourage restful sleep on crisp cotton sheets, the train slowly starts putting along just before sunrise. It is strange to see where we had spent the night, parked in the middle of the desert with nothing and nobody in sight just sheets of sand unfolding on either side of us, faster and faster as the train speeds up.

In the corridor Kurt can be heard marvelling at the expanse of desert outside and Ilse is anticipating good coffee and German pastries in Swakopmund.

"Do you know where ze good pastries are?" she asks as the train slows into Swakopmund station.

I do and point her in the direction of Cafe Anton, with a view of the cool Atlantic and mist tumbling in to shore. I head for the streets of Swakopmund to marvel at the German architecture and taste deli delights along the way cured meats and tempting breads, not forgetting dark chocolate and marzipan.

Between the sea and the dunes
Swakopmund is a favourite holiday destination for Namibians who flock there to escape the intense heat inland. The coast is always cool and the town has a permanent relaxed holiday atmosphere. If you can bear the cold Atlantic, there's a great swimming beach. I rather choose a walk along the palm-fringed coastline, past the bright red lighthouse and Kurt and Ilse eating pastries at Cafe Anton.

However, an eerie experience awaits me in the desert dunes behind Swakopmund. Taking the road from Swakopmund to Walvis Bay is always an unusual experience, with sea on one side and sand dunes on the other, and the tarred road running straight through the shifting sand. But this time is different.

Our driver-guide Hans, takes a sharp left turn into the dunes saying simply: "I just want to show you something."

We sit in quiet anticipation as he navigates his way into the silence of the sand and then stops dead in his tracks. What now? This is unnerving.

"Have we broken down?" I ask.
"No," says Hans, "Just follow me."

We alight and walk just 20 paces when Hans stops again. "Just look around you," he says, "these are all horse bones".

Bleached pure white by the sun and lying scattered behind a high dune are thousands of bones and fragments of saddle leather. In between lie a few complete skulls, clearly those of horses, also snow white and brittle.

"This is what the German soldiers did," says Hans, also obviously German.

"They said these horses were sick, so they just shot them."

Whatever the reason for the horse bones, the place has an eerie atmosphere made more intense by the complete silence deep in the dunes. I was pleased Kurt and Ilse didn't see this.

Back on the train we exchanged stories of grisly horse bones and fine German confectionery, as the train trundled back to Windhoek, via Spitzkoppe. The timing was perfect.

Splendour at Spitzkoppe
We arrived at the majestic granite outcrop at sundown, just as the warm desert light was doing its evening dance on the peaks and boulders of Spitzkoppe. This was outdoor theatre at its best. Kurt and Ilse again stood gobsmacked, staring at the desert beauty in disbelief.

Spitzkoppe is one of Namibia's most recognisable landmarks and rises mirage-like above the plains of the Namib. This volcano remnant is actually an inselberg and stands 700 metres above the surrounding landscape; the main peak is flanked by dome-shaped granite outcrops, which from a distance resemble traditional huts hence their name Pondok.

San sharmans have left their art on overhangs in the Spitzkoppe, which have mystical significance for these ancient desert people. And even today, this rock monolith has a soul-searching affect on people who visit there.

The silence and solitude of the place seems to encourage reflection and introspection, and the dancing light of sunset reminds one of the rawness and realness of Africa. This is a place like nowhere else. You could easily be on the moon.

After nearly an hour at Spitzkoppe, Kurt has hardly moved. But for his breathing, he appears cast in stone. He is completely captivated and transfixed by the splendour of the place and when it is time to board the train for the last lap to Windhoek, Kurt has to be coaxed on board.

"Ah, but it's beautiful in Africa," he says. He too has been touched by the magnificence of the Namib.

This most ancient of deserts, with apparently nothing to offer but sand, is a true soul journey for lovers of Africa, lovers of life and those who like to look a little further than the obvious. Namibia is for those who like to scratch beneath the sand. And are not afraid of what they may find.

From the January/February issue of the Wine-of-the-Month Club's bi-monthly magazine Good Taste.